Orange swirled with an encroaching darkness as Syna and Leth reunited in the skies of Sunberth. Of course, autumn within Sunberth was turning out to be somewhat of a shit show. The winds within Sunberth picked up tremendously the past couple of days, and it was their tempestuous nature that kept Azcan out all night, helping with closing up the Bolt hole. They also kept him in all day, the skies were gray and unwelcoming but nonethless, there was always the allure of alcohol to distract from the intensity of the storm. However, Azcan grumbled, the depths of his slumber carried him through the entire day, with dusk at last easing his sore eyes and replenishing his exhausted body. Azcan's senses recovered from his indulgences, and there was the briefest flecks of white powder along his nostrils. Light brown eyes were suffused with the reddish tint, showing the good time that Azcan had at work the night prior. Of course, good times were often followed up with bitter mornings. Azcan, knowing this slept through the day. But that wasn't enough to appease the body. His head spun, clouds of sensory detail brandished by the light of a lantern in the hallway that spilled under his room's door. Azcan stepped out of bed, the sleep in his eyes in a thin crust.

The drummer brushed that sleep away, banishing it into the nothing as the pounding of his head distracted him next. Of course, the drummer needed water to appease the beast of thirst, and food to satisfy his gullet, but those could wait... There was one solution to the hangover that the drummer knew best, and it was the creature itself. Azcan swept up his shirt, throwing it over his shoulders but making no effort to pull the garment down. The Illusionist's back and abdomen was on full display, a sputtering cough escaping his lips as his red eyes looked through the Drunken Fish, curious of what he'd find tonight. Of course, it was still rather early and the Fish was hardly the busiest bar around. With its location in Baroque Bay, it was for some out of the way, but perhaps the drummer liked a bit of privacy to smooth out his days.

Azcan traversed the flight of stairs easily, stepping into the tavern proper and approaching the bar. A yawn escaped his lips as he tapped on the bar twice, to alert the proprietor, a man known as Father Manowar, of his presence. Of course, Manowar wasn't stupid and the gesture was seen by the older man as rude. A rap on the head had Azcan's attention, blood coursing through him and causing his vision to pop in an array of lights.

Well, that's one way to fucking do it... he thought to himself, cursing both out loud and in his head as Father Manowar poured a glass of ale from the tap. He'd squeeze a lemon into the froth, pushing it towards Azcan in a friendly gesture.

"Ye just waking up, lad? I'd think you were some skulking monster if I didn't know what ye did for a livin'," he bellowed out, laughter frothing within his tone. Azcan offered a smile, laden with both gratitude and surprise. Manowar knew who he was? Azcan didn't advertise that he... oh wait, yes he did. Azcan made it plain and clear to the world who he was, the tattood 'Boy Wonder' on his back and the drums he often, though not right now, carried with him the ever-present reminder that he was one and the same with the newest drummer working at the Bolt Hole. Azcan carried himself differently than Desden, more like Dee in the fact that his presence insisted on enrolling others. He loved people, he loved attention, but moreover, he loved himself and wanted to share the presence that he was with the world.

Was that really so bad? The drummer didn't think so, and most scarcely seemed to mind. Azcan raised the ale to his lips, grinning at Manowar as the elderly man brought him a half loaf of bread and a salmon grilled from the Drunken Fish's kitchen. Such hospitality was a rare delight, but one he'd quickly grow used to if it persisted. Azcan grinned at Manowar before he said,

"Father, you've been so good to me. Say the word and I'll play sometimes for you," he told the man. Manowar nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips as he clasped the younger man's shoulder and answered, "I'll take ye up on that, boy. If ye offer again. But fer now, eat, drink, I bet yer head's poundin' like a set -"

"Of drums," he finished, getting the pun. He laughed about it, but in reality, such jokes got old very quickly and his head was still amiss with the hangover Manowar mentioned. Some ale brought it down, some salmon shrank it further. By the time he completed his meal, he felt lighter and would certainly extend his offer to Manowar a second time... Except he vanished. He was on the other side of the bar when Azcan looked back up, making lighthearted banter with yet another customer.

What a boss. This guy knows how to run a business, the drummer mused, continuing to scarf down his meal.

WC: 882

Last edited by Azcan on September 23rd, 2018, 5:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Cloak wrapped tight around her thin frame, Kailani shivered as she stepped foot onto the docks, leaning down briefly to make sure her casinor was firmly tied to its moorings. It wouldn’t do for her only means of conveyance to disappear in the brief time she meant to be gone-the last thing she needed was yet something else stolen from her by a storm. Nodding in satisfaction that the vessel wouldn’t simply float away, she wrapped the garment more firmly around herself and started hustling-keeping the hood pulled tight over her features to avoid any altercations on the way. She’d been in Sunberth before; she knew just how dangerous these streets were. The sandy-haired Svefra had earned herself a few black eyes and scrapes along the way, and luckily, was a little smarter now. The less noticeable she was, the less likely she was to get jumped on the way to the seedy little bar she had her sights on-The Drunken Fish. It wasn’t exactly the most savory location to spend one’s time in the city, in fact, quite the opposite, but at least it was dry. She had no hope of being anything less than soaked if she stayed out here on her boat.

Oceanic eyes flicked cautiously back and forth as she made her way down the docks, ignoring a few raucous calls from some of the bawdier sailors as she hurried by. Her proverbial hackles rose, but she stayed silent; if she wanted to brawl today, she’d do it inside where she wouldn’t get wet, not out here in the torrential rain. Luckily for her, the rest of the walk to The Drunken Fish passed without further incident, the storm keeping most sane folks inside their homes. Smiling a little at the thought, she pushed through the doorway. Had she ever claimed to be sane? Then again, who truly was?

A few curious heads turned at her entrance, cloak dripping on the floor as she pushed her hood back. Kailani pointedly ignored the scrutiny as she removed the garment, looking at it with more than a hint of disdain. She’d be lucky if it wasn’t ruined entirely. “Great,” she muttered under her breath, watching it drip on the dirty floor. “Fucking rain.” Refusing to meet the gaze of any of those curious stares and ignoring the equally curious murmurs, she started making her way to the bar, almost at her destination when one drunken voice rang out above the others, “Hey, beautiful…how much?” Stopping in her tracks, Kai took a deep breath, turning over her reaction in her mind. Was it worth her time? Deciding first that it wasn’t, she started walking forward again until the same voice slurred out again, “Bish, I asshed you a question!”

That was it. Patience gone. It was never a virtue Kailani claimed to have in the first place. Whirling on her heel, she quickly strode in the direction of its source-picking out the drunken fool with ease. His dark, unfocused eyes widened in shock as she moved toward him, though his shock quickly recovered and was replaced with a face-splitting grin. Was she accepting his offer, then? Opening his mouth to respond, his reply was quickly cut off by a ringing slap across his slack-jawed face. A chorus of gasps met her action, eyes burning in fury and trembling in rage as she stood before him. “I’m not a fucking whore,” she growled in the Common tongue as she addressed him, the man’s surprise wearing off and replacing itself with anger as he slowly lumbered to his feet. “And even if I were, I’d have standards. Your limp little worm dick wouldn’t even come close.”

The rage on his face would have been downright laughable if it hadn’t been directed at her, but even as it was, she thought she might be able to take him. He had the advantage in height and weight, but he was considerably intoxicated, and she was quick on her feet. After all she’d been through in the past couple weeks, she almost welcomed this; at least she wouldn’t have to think if she was knocked unconscious. When his hand balled into a fist, she actually grinned before puckering her lips in the mockery of a kiss. “Bring it on, you ugly ass mother fucker. Even if it wasn’t the way you wanted, I can still make you scream my name by the end of the night.” Overconfident, maybe, but Kai didn’t care. What did she have to lose any more?

WC : 756

Last edited by Kailani on September 22nd, 2018, 5:28 am, edited 2 times in total.

When drunkards started catcalling women, it was sure to be a good time. Azcan didn't see the woman come in, and his senses, tormented by the vestiges of hangover did not encourage him to turn about. Instead, he finished his meal and promptly rested his head against the bar. A groan of displeasure escaped, almost a whine. Did he still have the sack he picked up? Usually, when drugs created a problem, it was equal use of drugs that solved it. Azcan slept through the night, fed and showered his gullet... all that was left was for him to grind that powder and start up the evening in the right way. Lips pursed as he dug through his pocket to no avail. He didn't forget it anywhere or lose it. The briefest flickers of the night before flashed within his thoughts. The thumping beat of the drums, the assault of the winds on the way in and out. Azcan spent the night in a flurry of drugs and drums. The Bolt Hole's business only seemed to increase on the night of the storm, adventurous younger souls braved the winds and partied to their heart's content. The establishment didn't pack up, with many a soul colapsed on the floor until late in the morning.

Of fucking course there's nothing left, he complained to himself. It wasn't until a loud crack of palm against face that Azcan's attentions were aroused again. It wasn't so much the sound, but the voice that followed after. Azcan could forget the faces of the Crestwidow pod, but it was sound that communicated better with Azcan anyway. There was no mistaking the sound of that voice. Tinged with the accent of her Svefra brethren, Kailani's voice was one he'd heard many a time aboard the Wayward Tabernacle. Two seasons passed since he'd last seen any of the Crestwidows, but this one, he felt a particular pang in his gut to hear. Azcan felt the memories of the past come over him, but not before he turned to confirm what was very much an awkward suspicion. The Kailani he remembered had an incredibly loose temper, a quality he found both enthralling and baffling in the same thought. How could a pod filled with ambient, drug-addled souls foster such a violent one? Azcan supposed that all pods needed their swift thinkers and hitters, but perhaps it was a culture shock. The Lia's daughter was someone he really didn't want to see again. The drummer, however, found himself locked in place when the drunkard rose to his feet.

While the guy was drunk, Azcan had also been in front of fierce, coherent but intoxicated people in his time in Sunberth. His felt his pulse tick up in his chest, his light brown eyes glued on the scene before him. Kailani liked to talk a lot of shit, too. The slap on the face was followed by a taunt, inviting the drunk to attack her. Sunberth wasn't the home of principles like chivalry and no one rose up to help Kailani. The drummer wasn't that sort of gentleman either and besides, his bruises had just gone away. The drummer was impeccable again, but to ease his conscience, he'd give Kailani his support in a far different way. Azcan laid back against the bar, his left, gnosis-bearing hand opening as he tapped into his connection with Ionu.

The Trickster, when it visited Azcan left the impression of enjoying the Crestwidow pod, an impression shared however reluctantly it was so, by the drummer. The Illusionist wove his game, intent on emphasizing on the drunk's sense of touch. Being intoxicated was a medium upon which illusions could paint such realistic images. They knew what they were seeing was fake, but they couldn't help themselves! Azcan bit his lips to stifle laughter as he embedded his ploy. The drunk would feel shivers that coursed through his spine. Vibrations cascaded along his arms and chest. He'd feel a sensation like fingers that coursed through his hair. Confusion cast upon the drunkard's lips. Three illusions centered their weight on the man's senses, and with that, Azcan felt his intervention unnecessary.

However, he also couldn't leave. Azcan liked to see drunks getting fucked up as much as anyone else in the room.

WC: 717

Last edited by Azcan on September 23rd, 2018, 6:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

If Kailani had been aware of Azcan’s presence in the room, her grief-fueled rage might have found a more deserving source, but as it was, she only had eyes for the moronic drunk in front of her. Truly, it was only the raging deluge of emotions she’d bottled up that had her teetering so close to the edge; Kailani had a temper, yes, but she was also a sailor. It wasn’t as if men hadn’t said such things to her before. Indeed, she’d often heard far worse. But her sadness and anger needed an outlet, and this buffoon had presented the perfect one.

The sandy-haired seafarer cracked her neck as the man started stumbling forward, bracing herself for the clumsy swing that was sure to come. When he stopped, so did she, brows furrowing together in confusion as the man started to shiver. What was wrong with him? Was he more than just drunk? In a place like Sunberth, it wouldn’t surprise her. Shrugging, Kailani took advantage of the man’s distraction, pulling her arm back and swinging her fist in an arc toward the side of his face. When it connected, a feral grin flashed across her features even as she simultaneously winced with pain. She could pack a decent enough punch, it was true, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. The impact sent the man back into his seat with another comical look of surprise, Kailani rubbing her knuckles with the fingers of her other hand. A smattering of applause filled the room at her display, a caustic laugh bubbling its way past her lips. At least she could still entertain a room full of degenerates. Wasn’t it all she’d ever wanted, anyway?

Casting a disdainful glare over the drunk’s form, she started to turn away and head back toward the bar-her original destination. Before she could get far, and faster than she ever would have imagined in his intoxicated state, an arm encircled her waist and yanked her back into the fray. A well-placed punch in the gut knocked the breath from her lungs and caused sparks across her vision, but she recovered a bit quicker than she daresay he expected. Slamming her heel down on his instep, a grim smile flicked over her face as a howl of pain erupted from his mouth. Between her attack and the illusion gripping his senses, his grip loosened enough for her to break free. She doubled over and gasped for air once free of his vice-like hold. Before she could straighten back up, however, his own foot swept her left leg out from under her and sent her tumbling to the floor in an undistinguished heap.

By this point in the fight, every pair of eyes in the bar was following their altercation. Some seemed to be rooting for her, some for the drunkard, but most seemed rather ambivalent. This obviously wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the The Drunken Fish. Still, no one moved to intervene, not that she expected them to. There was no chivalry amongst lowlifes. She knew that better than anyone.

The man’s face glowed with triumph as he leered over her, the expression cast on his features now decidedly more lewd than it had been before. It was obvious this was a man who preferred his women helpless, but little did he know, he was messing with the wrong dame. Of all the things anyone had ever caused Kailani of being, helpless was not one of them. The glare she shot up toward her adversary could have melted stone, fire burning deep within the oceanic depths of her eyes. “Fuck you,” she growled before violently kicking upward, right into his dangling family jewels. The sound he made in response could best be described as mewl before he fell to the floor not inches away from her. Clutching her abdomen, Kailani struggled to her feet and gave him another kick in the ribs just for good measure. The same fiery glare filled her eyes as she hurled a glob of spittle in his face, the men who’d been cheering him on before now caught up in uproarious laughter. She wouldn’t be surprised if he never showed his face in this establishment again. Overcome by humiliation and his face promising retribution, the man finally managed to scuttle to his feet and out the door; storm or no, he wouldn’t stand for another moment of this.

“Hey, you didn’t pay your tab!” Father Manowar called out after the fool’s retreating form, Kailani cracking a smile at last. She might have gained a few more bumps and bruises than she truly needed, but she doubted anyone here would mess with her now. Silver linings?

Something was very wrong with this picture. Azcan, in all of his time aboard the Wayward Tabernacle, never saw Kailani erupt in such rage. Sure, a tavern brawl didn't need to be fuelled by anger but the expression set upon Kailani's visage wasn't something he'd ever seen before. Azcan couldn't help himself, try as he might to retreat, he continued, bound to his spot with his mind perpetuating the illusions. Lani, as he knew her, was someone he'd known intimately, a history shared between the two that Azcan sought desperately to forget. Desperately, Azcan missed the peace he'd known aboard the sloop. Sunberth was a place he both loved and despised, with the recent beating served to him without reason forming scars within the impression of the place he'd held in the previous season. Everyone liked a drummer. It was what it was, the ambiance of music seldom attracted negative attention.

At least... if you knew what you were doing. Others might get booed off stages or hated into silence, but Azcan passed those days. At least when it came to the drums. Azcan's dancing was laughable at best, his two left feet swinging him from place to place. The drummer couldn't sing worth a lick but that's why he stuck to his strengths. The Illusionist didn't rise up to defend Kailani for the same reason. Or rather... for multiple reasons. Shivers tore down his spine as he thought of what her ire might earn him. When the woman's fist crashed into the drunk's face, laughter poured from his lips. And fear poured into his mind. The drummer couldn't move, either. The fight ensued in full, and when Kailani's wrist was seized, he didn't know what to feel. The illusions coursed through the drunkard's senses, the drummer's connection with Ionu flaring as red and yellows swirls within the inverted triangle on his palm.

The drunkard was still up and ready. Azcan's eyes widened as he watched the Svefra take the attack to the gut. He was reminded of the blow to his chest, and the bruises that lingered on his flesh for quite a few days. Kailani's recovery led to the drummer watching with anxiety enmeshing within his enthrallment. The spectacle rooted him to the spot, but he also knew that if he did move Manowar would probably yell at him to sit down and shut up. Of course, the man didn't know who was fighting, and while Azcan certainly enjoyed earning the slap on the face that came from women... he didn't revel in the act itself.

Moments later, a pathetic whine escaped the lips of the drunkard who'd thrown his Svefra acquaintance to the ground. Once that whine sounded, however, Azcan knew he needn't let his illusions persist. They withered from the drunk's mind, for Azcan had every intention of letting him steep in pure, unadulerated pain. The drummer didn't approve of Kailani's fighting method, but it was better to be unfair and standing than... the other side. Laughter swelled throughout the Drunken Fish as the drunkard made his way out. When Manowar shouted out to the drunk, Azcan took his chance. He'd be spotted if Kailani's attention moved to the bar. Azcan made his way to his feet before scrambling forward and towards the staircase that led to his room. The imbecile, in his panic, collided with a barstool. Agony flared through his senses as he raised his hand to his mouth. He covered it and let the muffled shout brush against his gnosis mark. However, his body moved forward even in the midst of his pain.

Azcan's throbbing shin wasn't cooperating with him, either. The pain flared through his senses, and when he attempted to step forward he began to lose his balance. Perhaps, later on that evening, the drummer might rationalize his fall assuming there was a nail in the ground. He certainly wouldn't admit to tripping on his own feet. The Illusionist crashed to the floor in a heap, his elbows tucked in, which only served to send shockwaves of pain through his arms and along the length of his body. He'd not made it very far, and the staircase was several paces away. However, Azcan was gripped by his pain, his hands holding each of his elbows as his legs struggled to get underneath him. Slowly, he'd make his way to his feet, hoping to Ionu that the massive ruckus he'd created wasn't enough to catch the Svefra's attention.

WC: 747

Last edited by Azcan on September 23rd, 2018, 6:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.

“Just wanted a damn drink,” Kailani muttered under her breath, nodding to a few of the laughing patrons as she finally stumbled her way toward the bar. It seemed it was a destination she was never meant to reach. Yet again, before she could get there, something else caught her attention: a bang followed by a loud crash, one which reverberated through the tavern. Her head whipped in the direction of the sounds only to find a young man sprawled on the floor. Seemed she and her erstwhile fighting companion weren’t the only ones getting hurt in the joint today. With a shrug, she started to turn away; after all, this had nothing to do with her. No one had intervened on her behalf, why should she do the same? However, something else caught her eye, the flash of a tattoo peeking out from under the man’s shirt as he rose back to his feet. A tattoo that looked awfully familiar…

Recognition slammed into her like a wave at high tide as she took in the tawny color of his skin, the inky black of his hair, and that all too familiar carved musculature. “Boy Wonder” was what that tattoo said, a mark she knew every inch of. Truth be told, she knew every inch of the rest of him too, but that was a story for another time. “Azcan!” the Svefra shouted, color burning in her ruddy cheeks. Just as her rage had started to cool, here it would find another release, and one much more deserved than the tanked fool from before. As tempestuous and petty as Kailani could be, there were few she held any sort of long-term grudge against. Azcan was “lucky” enough to be among those few. And with good reason, she might add. “Turn around and face me like a man! Or are your balls still waiting to drop?”

Go on ahead. I’ll be there in a few. Those words had replayed themselves over and over again in Kailani’s head, night after night for months after her pod’s last departure from Sunberth. Claiming he had forgotten something back at the market, turning away and disappearing into the crowd…It was like three years had never passed, vanishing from the pod as if he’d never existed. And to lie straight to her face like that…It still made her blood boil if she thought about it for too long. It was no less than she’d expected from a young man even more reckless than she, but it hurt, nonetheless. As much as both of them might deny it, there’d always been something between them, something that pulled them back together again and again. No matter how many times they fought-which was often and loud-they always inevitably came back together again, the two drawn like a moth to a deadly flame. Then he had to run off and ruin it all. She wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him.

Curious gazes turned back to her again; it would seem Kailani was destined to be The Drunken Fish’s entertainment for the day. However, she no longer cared, and as far as she was concerned, none of them even existed any more. This was far more personal than her brawl with the drunken lecher, and now she was even angrier than before. How dare he show himself in her presence again, and even more so, how dare he try to run away?! No matter that he’d gotten there far before she had, no matter that he had no way of knowing she would be here. Every thought she had about him made her see more red than before, and it was his massive misfortune to have caught her in such a mood. She was still keyed up, and Kailani had never been known for her foresight. Strike now, think later, that was her motto. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she waited for his response or lack thereof. He’d not get out of here without facing her.

The drummer cursed out of both pain and shame, melded together as he realized he'd be dragged into an encounter he absolutely did not want to be a part of. Of course she'd know who he was! How many nights had they spent sharing quarters and far more than just space aboard the Wayward Tabernacle? The Svefra also wasn't a fool, though she'd been gullible to believe his deception when at last he saw fit to abandon the Crestwidow pod and create a life for himself away from their influence. Azcan spent three of the best years of his life aboard that ship, countless memories amassed with differing degrees of recollection of each one. However, life stood still when Kailani was around him. Azcan's chest pulsed with the raging tick of his heartbeat and it certainly wasn't because of his injuries.

Scuffs and a throbbing knee, painful as they were withered when compared to the anxiety that his name, shouted out within the bar, brought to the drummer. The Illusionist turned his body, scooting back in place so that his back rested against the stairs. Fight be damned, what followed next brought eyes on the Svefra and the fallen drummer, glued to whatever was to commence with a surge of enthrallment. Of course, Manowar knew the drummer's habit for women. He brought them into his room once and a while, or else he didn't return to his room at all. Azcan was alone more than he was with company, but the occurrence was often enough that they were noticed.

Turn around and face you like a man? Gods be damned if I want to do that, he thought to himself. However, he did turn. Try as he might to convince himself that he was a coward, the drummer didn't turn away or try to run once he was caught. He pushed back against the staircase, rising to his feet. Unlike Kailani, the drummer was very present to the numerous faces in the room. These were faces he knew to varying degrees, the life of a songbird creating within him the overwhelming desire to chat and make nice with the town.

After all, the Boy Wonder aspired for his name to be known around the city and dare he say it, around the world once he could manage it. Azcan even took the distinct pleasure of forgetting his surname, intent on the two syllables of his first to describe him along. His title, of course, was second to it all. The Boy Wonder stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head at the woman. Curiosity cast upon his features, wondering when the next eruption might come. Rather than wait for it, he decided to cut her off.

The drummer reached for the woman's wrists and motioned to the room upstairs. He pressed forward, his chest shy of making contact with Kailani's. Azcan wasn't trying to pull moves on his former bedmate, but the movements were instinctive. He was used to the plane of her body, and she to his. He breathed into her ear, "Not here. I rent a room. We can talk privately," he suggested to the woman before he pulled back. The drummer released her wrists before he shook his shoulders, intent on letting the tension ease from his body.

The Svefra and the Illusionist used to be fast friends, but the nagging thought of Ionu's purpose for Azcan compelled him to leave the Crestwidows. He thought of it as stretching his wings far and trying to fly, but perhaps it was interpreted as him retreating from a woman he cared very deeply about. The conflict of emotions was heavy within the drummer. He didn't intend for this, he didn't think he'd see her again.

Life in Sunberth slowly pulled the qualities of the Crestwidows, their merits and their flaws away from Azcan's memory. Rather, he recalled good times, fond stories and eager music that spilled forth and connected the lot of them. At the center of most of them, however, was Kailani. The pit returned to his chest as he led her towards his bedroom. He opened the door and left it open for the woman to join him. He pulled on his shirt, a barrier against the woman who knew his body so very well. The drummer kicked off his shoes and let them slide beneath his bed, narrowed eyes pointed at the door in wait for her to join him.

WC: 758

Last edited by Azcan on September 23rd, 2018, 6:04 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Kailani audibly hissed when her wrists were grabbed, his hold on her limbs the only thing preventing her from slapping him across the face in the same manner of her last victim-er, opponent. Azcan’s words did little to calm her, wriggling in his grasp as he pulled her in closer to his body. Part of her almost instinctively started to relax before she quickly recalled her anger-she would not let herself be soothed by his familiarity. Stranded from her pod in an inhospitable city she may be, but she would not simply fall back into his arms for the sake of a “friendly” face. The Svefra had her pride. She would not melt back into her former lover’s embrace in the middle of this shithole. Her heart pounded furiously against her ribs as she leaned back; she’d be damned if she let him get the better of her.

Wrenching her hands away as he released them, Kailani wordlessly glared, every thought tumbling through her head more vile than the last. She had a multitude of things she could say, but was too furious to utter any of them aloud-opting instead for the silent, seething glower burning in his direction. When he suggested taking her up to his room, she wanted nothing to do with the idea at first-alone with him? The woman might have been inclined toward murder, especially considering the lack of witnesses in an empty room. After glancing about their environment and observing the all too interested gazes of The Drunken Fish’s clientele, however, she knew he was right. This wasn’t really business she wanted to air for all the world to hear. “Fine,” she finally agreed, voice stiff, as he began his walk up the stairs. She was only moments behind, the stalking of her footsteps for all the world like an offended cat. Her normal lithe grace was interrupted by the force of her contempt, showing clearly in her gait as stiff as her voice.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kai followed Azcan into his room and shut the door behind them. Her hand trembled with the effort of keeping her fury in check as she turned the knob; it was all she could do not to slam the portal. Once they were securely encased within the room’s walls, the seafarer turned to face the “Boy Wonder” with her arms crossed over her chest. She made no move to come any closer. Her azure gaze was expectant, sandy brow lifted as she regarded him. “Well?” she prompted in Fratava, slipping back into her mother tongue with her foot tapping impatiently against the planks of the floor. “You going to give me a good reason not to let you meet the same fate as the lout from before? Because, Azcan, I swear upon Laviku’s waters, if you don’t start explaining yourself, you may never leave this room again.” Was her bark louder than her bite? With Kailani Crestwidow, it was nearly impossible to tell. She was known to talk big, it was true, but she’d also been known to put quite a lot of action behind those lofty words. As clearly evidenced only minutes before, the woman was not afraid to get her hands dirty.

If Azcan was perceptive enough-which gods only knew if he was-perhaps he would notice that there was more to her anger and bluster; that in great part, it was nothing more than a smoke screen for the deep and abiding loss she’d felt at his betrayal. While they may have demurred and danced circles around the truth, there had been a real connection between them and his severing of the tie without a word cut her to the core. How could he be so selfish? If he could get his head out of his own ass long enough to think about what he’d done, maybe he could see how he’d hurt her! And not only her, but the entire pod! The good-natured and adventurous Azcan had been well loved among the Crestwidows, and his loss had been felt keenly. Could he not understand that? What had he been thinking? These questions and more lingered on the tip of her tongue, but they remained in her mouth, her expression saying all she couldn’t. Let him explain himself, if he could. She would wait.

The Boy Wonder wasn't supposed to make people feel better. At least, not with his words. Azcan never got the impression that his words really meant much of anything to people. The drummer was a musician first and a lover second. Nowhere in either of those words was there an insinuation that he was some kind of therapist. The Illusionist loved to make others feel better. He was a people pleaser at the very core of his being. But, at times, particularly in confrontation, that quality diminished and bitterness took its hold instead. Azcan listened as Kailani followed him up the stairs. Her footsteps were loud and angry as she ascended.

When the woman entered the room to join him, the man settled on his bed, feet stretched out on the straw mattress. He flinched, very much expecting the slam that never came. A bit of self-control? How... nice. Azcan didn't know what to expect from Kailani, but he expected her anger to be taken out on the drunk first, then the door, and then Azcan himself? It was strange as he watched her cross her arms and pierce him with that glower. The Illusionist didn't catch it earlier, preferring to ignore her visage and get away from prying eyes. The more he looked at her, the greater his guilt steeped within him. Azcan knew from the very depths of his soul that leaving the Crestwidow pod was what he needed to do.

The correctness of the decision didn't elude him. Every moment spent in Sunberth was a moment he branched out and sought to bring pleasure to others. From his music at the Bolt Hole, to his time galavanting through the beds and crawlspaces of the city, even to his random play throughout the city itself. Ionu encouraged the Illusionist to keep his powers a secret from the whole of the Crestwidow pod, but it by no means said what to do with them after.

Illusionism was a tool in his arsenal, a power if properly utilized could bring pleasures and sensations utterly unknown to the world into being. While Sunberth seemed to fear the arcane, the divine set before them, splayed across walls and the senses themselves, was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Azcan wouldn't pretend to be some zealot for the deity of Illusions, but Ionu was his patron, and for his patron... he played. Azcan let the thoughts of Ionu and the past brush aside. He was hesitant to admit to the woman that he'd spent the last year and a half spent in her company lying to her. The gnosis he proudly beared now was hidden behind a glove, disclosed to no one until he arrived within Sunberth, broken over his decision to leave and so utterly confused by his place in the world. Even now, the drummer didn't know who he was.

But... then again, he didn't know Ionu either. The fact assured the drummer, but it didn't serve such a purpose now. Should I keep the lie and preserve her memories of me? Or should I be real with her? Seeing Lani walk away again... might break me. I... I can't, he reasoned to himself. The Illusionist took a deep breath, a glance set behind Kailani to ensure that the door was properly shut before he parted his lips to speak,

"You remember when I first came aboard the Tabernacle, Lani?" he asked her. Perhaps the question seemed like a change of subject, but it was important. Rhetorical in nature, Azcan didn't wait for an answer before he continued on, "I don't... not really. I don't remember the faces of my parents, the life I used to live. I barely remember some of your podmates," he told her. The words flowed readily, the story of his escape from the Wayward Tabernacle and the Crestwidow pod one that he needed to tell again. Desre, his employer and a Favoured of Ionu knew the story. At least... the parts that made him look good. He didn't tell her he abandoned them; instead, he told her of a sorrowful goodbye.

"I wasn't supposed to be there forever, either. I forgot my parents on that sloop. I forgot my past and just... lived. One night on the Tabernacle, I was visited... Ionu came to me and pulled me aside." he informed her. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember if Lani was around that night. Sometimes she didn't join the pod, most times she did. "The Trickster came to me in the form of a woman, someone I'd never seen before. They asked me a few questions... I guess they liked what they heard. They left me with..." he cut himself off again, turning his palm over so that Kailani could bear witness to the gnosis mark he bore, the mark of his blessed deception.

"They told me to keep it secret, to see what I could do with it... Then they left and I tried my best to follow their instructions. Ionu told me that the Tabernacle wasn't my 'real world'... They made me promise to eventually branch out and pave my own way. I know that I wronged you, Lani... But I couldn't say no to Ionu," he told her. The admission was met with a neutral gaze. Azcan didn't like telling the truth, he realized. It hurt far more than the fantasies he could've woven for her.

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Last edited by Azcan on September 23rd, 2018, 6:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Lani. That nickname hit Kailani harder than anything else he was saying, the word leaving a rougher impact than the literal punch to her gut she’d suffered before. It was a name only Azcan called her; most of her pod used her full name or shortened it to Kai. But Az always had to be different, no matter what. Probably why she’d been drawn to him at all. Swallowing hard, she tried to focus on what he was saying, cerulean eyes widening in surprise at the mark he revealed. Ionu’s gnosis…and all this time, she’d been none the wiser. Her gaze searched his, brows drawing together. Deception on top of deception; had he ever once spoken the truth to her? Her people lived their lives openly and freely, and he repaid them with lies shrouded in secrecy. Biting her lip, she fixed him with another long stare. Where to even begin?

“All of that I could forgive, Azcan,” Kailani finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence stretching between them. “You gained the favor of a god, one who told you to keep it a secret. I understand; it’s not generally wise to dishonor the wishes of the one who would give you favor. Gaining new powers is heady, intoxicating, and not a one among us would begrudge you such indulgence. I’d be a petty fool and a hypocrite to boot to be mad at you for something like that.” One slim shoulder lifted in a shrug, accompanied by a slow shake of the seafarer’s golden head. “But leaving without a word…no, not even that. Worse.” Finally stepping forward, Kai stopped in front of his bed and poked him none too gently in the chest. “You didn’t leave without a word. You left with a lie.” Her gaze flashed in anger as she leaned in closer, poking him again. “Lies wrapped within lies, Azcan. My pod opened their hearts to you, their hearts and their ships. Everything we had, we shared with you. You were practically a Svefra yourself.” She scoffed and shook her head once more. “And that’s how you chose to repay us? Fading into Sunberth as if you’d never existed at all? You have a distorted concept of gratitude, boy.”

The Svefra’s flinty gaze dared him to contradict her, coiling up for another fight. Seeing him so unexpectedly on top of her most recent loss had stirred up months’ worth of emotions, and she was ready to air them out. He dared to try to justify what he’d done? Would you have done any differently in his place? a small voice whispered in the back of her head, one she tried desperately to ignore. She tried to assure herself that yes, indeed, she would have, but who knows? There was more than one reason she and Azcan had been drawn to each other, and their collective immaturity had a lot to do with it. He’d seen the easiest and most pain-free route (for him anyway), and decided to take it. Could she really have expected more of him? Groaning aloud in frustration at her inner thoughts, she stomped her foot. Yes, of course she could! And she would! No one could tell her that her anger wasn’t justified, not even her innermost self!

Banishing such thoughts from her head, she fixed him with another glare. She would not be sympathetic, not now. “You’re a selfish bastard,” she informed him, wrapping herself in her anger again. A comforting cloak, albeit one that left her burned. “You could have had the balls to tell the truth to the people who’d taken you in as family, and instead you chose the most cowardly approach there was. If you knew half of what we’ve been through since you’ve been gone, you wouldn’t dare to try and justify yourself to me!”